


More Than Friends

by Dreamin



Series: Christmas in July 2018 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Marriage Proposal, Prompt Fill, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Mycroft's parents are convinced he and Molly are dating. To appease them, he brings her with him to Christmas dinner.





	More Than Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [More than Friends (tr)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041709) by [Sweetiepookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetiepookie/pseuds/Sweetiepookie)



> This was inspired by a prompt from afteriwake -- “You’re a terrible cook.” It was also inspired by a few of my own prompts -- "going home to see the folks," "fake relationship," "snowed in," "bed-sharing," and "mistletoe."

“You’re a terrible cook.”

Molly Hooper rolled her eyes fondly. “You phoned just to tell me that? You could’ve just commented on Tumblr like everyone else, Mycroft.”

She wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, she and Mycroft Holmes became best friends, even though he would never use those words. Their friendship started when Sherlock needed help faking his death and continued while Sherlock was dismantling Moriarty’s web. These days, Sherlock and the others gently teased Molly about being the Iceman’s only friend, but no one, not even Sherlock, teased Mycroft about having Molly for a friend. In fact, they all thought her friendship was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Mycroft happened to agree.

“You know I prefer not to leave comments,” he said, more than a hint of disdain in his voice. “I normally wouldn’t have said anything at all but this…”

Molly couldn’t help a giggle over the photo she’d uploaded of the egg that had exploded in her microwave. “Yes, I know. I’m much better at baking.”

“Then why do you bother? And why do you keep inflicting the evidence on an unsuspecting world?” He sounded completely baffled.

She laughed softly. “The only way I’ll get better is if I keep trying. At least this time, it wasn’t an exploding pressure cooker.” That incident had been so bad that she had decided it would be easier to remodel the kitchen instead of trying to repair the stove and range hood. “And it’s not like I feed people the results, I just post photos of what not to do in the kitchen.”

“I would hope others are able to learn from your mistakes.” Mycroft paused. “I do have another reason for calling.”

“I knew it,” Molly said, grinning, as she started scrolling through her favorite baby animals blog. “Whose post-mortem do I need to perform now?”

“Nothing like that. I made the mistake of mentioning your name around my parents. They’ve convinced themselves that we’re dating and they want me to bring you to Christmas dinner.”

She groaned quietly. “Oh, Mycroft, you didn’t…”

“I tried to tell them our relationship is platonic but they refuse to believe it. They insist that having you there will be my present to them.” He paused. “I hate to impose on your plans-” There was a level of remorse in his voice.

_That wouldn’t have been there a year or two ago._ “Please,” she muttered. “The only plans I have are watching Christmas movies while I eat a frozen turkey dinner.” With both parents gone and most of her friends having families of their own, it wasn’t unusual for Molly to be alone at Christmas. She didn’t mind it, much.

“Then, you’ll come?” He sounded cautiously hopeful.

“I assume we won’t be pressing the platonic issue around them.”

“Correct,” he said, sighing quietly. “They expect a girlfriend, they won’t be satisfied with anything less.”

She smiled a bit. “Alright, I’ll come, but you owe me, Mycroft. Big time.”

“A Holmes always pays his debts.” His relief was audible.

Molly giggled. “Okay, no more _Game of Thrones_ for you.”

* * *

Three weeks later, Molly was sitting in the back of a black sedan, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her red-and-green plaid dress. It was the nicest festive dress she had, but she still felt positively dowdy next to her immaculately-attired best friend-turned-fake boyfriend. After the third time, Mycroft stilled her hand with his own. She felt a jolt go through her at the contact but convinced herself it was only shock over Mycroft willingly touching another human being. He was the least physically expressive person she knew, which was a shame since Molly was a big hugger.

He didn’t seem to notice her reaction. “There is nothing to be nervous about, Molly. It’s just my parents.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling a bit. “Oh yes, just your parents – the people who raised you and Sherlock into the intimidating specimens that you are, not to mention the fact that they think we’re dating.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “You still find me intimidating?”

Her smile grew. “Not quite as much as when we first met, but yes. I mean, you’re the Iceman, the British Government, Big Brother, need I go on?”

He stared at her, eyebrows raised, for so long that she was worried she’d offended him. Before she had a chance to apologize, he cleared his throat. “I see.” He pulled his hand back and Molly realized her hand felt cold without his.

She grinned at him, trying to get past the suddenly awkward moment. “But hey, there’s nothing wrong with being intimidating. No one underestimates you, for one thing. Everyone underestimates me.”

“Eventually, they realize the error of their ways,” he said, smiling a bit as he relaxed. As much as Mycroft ever relaxed, anyway. “You, my dear, are a force to be reckoned with.”

Her grin widened. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Mycroft chuckled. “It was intended as one.”

Molly couldn’t help looking at his hand, wanting to feel it around hers again. _I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m going with it._ “We, um, we should probably hold hands … and stuff.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “If we’re supposed to be a couple, your parents would expect us to be comfortable with each other, right?”

“I suppose.” He took her hand again and she noticed how large and warm his was. “What other ‘stuff’ do you suggest we practice?”

She felt her cheeks grow warm and she knew she was blushing. “We … um … your parents will probably expect us to kiss. I assume there’ll be mistletoe right where everyone can see.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I’m sure there will be, but we can avoid it easily.” His mobile chirped. “Excuse me a moment.” Using his free hand, he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket then read the text, rolling his eyes, before turning back to her as he put the phone back in his pocket. “Sherlock. It would seem Adler is joining us for dinner.”

Molly smiled a bit, amused. “I didn’t know they were this serious. I mean, taking a woman home to meet the parents is a big step.”

Sherlock and Irene had been dating for three months, ever since Irene had come back to London. She was now working as a spy for Mycroft, using her dominatrix career as an excellent cover.

“It is,” Mycroft agreed, looking down at their joined hands.

She gently squeezed his hand. He looked up at her curiously then she leaned over to lightly kiss him on the lips. When she pulled back, he was staring at her. It wasn’t quite Sherlock’s “buffering mode,” but it was close.

“Mycroft?” she asked softly. _Did I offend him again?_

The car slowed to a stop. “Sir?” the driver asked. “We’re here.”

“Er, yes, thank you, James,” Mycroft said, his eyes never leaving Molly. After a moment, he shook his head a bit then looked out the window and groaned quietly. “Here they come.”

* * *

Bracing himself for the onslaught, Mycroft stepped out of the car as soon as James opened the door, then he held out his hand to Molly. She took it and he felt the unfamiliar but not unpleasant jolt once again. _It’s only static electricity,_ he tried to convince himself. _Nothing more._

Molly exited the car gracefully, her smile wide and happy when she saw his parents, who were uncharacteristically waiting patiently a few feet away.

_They must want to make a good first impression_. “Mum, Dad, this is Dr. Margaret Hooper. Molly, these are my parents, Violet and Siger Holmes.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes,” Molly said, grinning. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Violet scoffed, smiling back. “Nothing good, I imagine. And please, enough with the ‘mister and missus’ nonsense. Call me Violet. Or Vi, even.”

Siger grinned. “And call me Siger.”

“Only if you call me Molly,” she said, beaming. “And don’t worry, Mycroft has always spoken of both of you respectfully.”

Violet raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I find that hard to believe, but it’s nice of you to say, dear. Come,” she said as she gently took Molly’s arm, “let’s get you and Mikey inside, it’s far too cold out here.”

His ersatz girlfriend burst into giggles as the two ladies walked towards the house. “You really do call him that? I thought Sherlock was joking.”

“Oh, no, I’ve called him that since he was born. He didn’t start objecting until he was seven.”

Siger chuckled and Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Have Sherlock and Irene arrived?” he asked as the two of them walked to the house.

“Yes,” Siger said, smiling a bit, “about an hour ago.”

“Dare I ask how it went?”

His father chuckled. “Your mother still doesn’t approve of Irene’s … profession, but I think she’s warming up to the lady herself. Irene seems to be doing wonders for Sherlock.”

“At least we agree on one thing,” he muttered. He was reluctant to admit it, especially to the couple in question, but he felt Irene truly brought out the best in Sherlock. Because of her, his younger brother had given up illicit drugs and nicotine entirely.

“Have you checked the latest forecast?” Siger asked as they walked through the front door. “Weatherman’s predicting at least three inches tonight.”

“Fortunately, Molly and I will be back in London long before any snow flies.” _I imagine two or three hours here will be sufficient to please Mummy._ He hung up his coat on the coat rack by the door, next to Molly’s.

Mycroft found her, his mother, Irene, and Sherlock in the kitchen. Molly and Irene were having tea at the kitchen table while his mother was checking on the turkey in the oven and Sherlock was helping himself to the top of a croquembouche tower.

Violet lightly slapped his hand. “That’s for after dinner.”

“We won’t be here that long and I’m hungry now,” Sherlock said, pouting.

Irene smirked. “Behave, Sherlock.” The look she gave him telegraphed clearly, “Disciplining you is my job.”

Sherlock blushed then put the little pastry back on the tower.

Mycroft rolled his eyes then sat down next to Molly, who reached out to pat his hand, smiling a bit. “I don’t have to worry about you stealing sweets, do I?” she asked.

He smirked. “Unlike my younger brother, I have self-discipline.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Irene asked, her eyes dancing, as Sherlock sat down next to her.

“Molly and I have a different dynamic than the two of you,” Mycroft said, taking Molly’s hand in his. “There is an equal balance of power between us that you seem to lack.”

“True,” Irene purred, “but Sherlock has no complaints.”

Sherlock blushed brighter than before but just nodded.

Violet came over with a plate of mini quiches, which she set in the middle of the table. “For a while there, I thought Sherlock was going to end up with Molly. He certainly talked about her enough.”

Mycroft saw how uncomfortable Sherlock and Molly immediately looked, while Irene just looked amused. _Mummy has a preference, it would seem._

“He never mentioned you, Irene,” Violet continued, “just like Mikey never mentioned Molly until just recently.”

“I depend on Molly,” Sherlock said. “I couldn’t do the Work without her, but she is just a friend. I don’t talk about Irene because I prefer to keep our relationship private, and I’m sure Mycroft feels the same way.”

“Correct,” Mycroft said, lightly squeezing Molly’s hand.

“Don’t mind her, boys,” Siger said as he came into the room and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. “She’s eager for grandbabies, you know that.” After a significant look from his wife, he added, grinning, “And daughters-in-law, of course.”

Irene smirked. “Sherlock and I haven’t discussed settling down. We’re having too much fun for that.”

“Marriage and children wouldn’t be less fun,” Molly said, “it would just be a different kind of fun.” She smiled a bit. “Of course, Mycroft and I haven’t discussed it either, but I certainly wouldn’t object.”

_She wouldn’t?_ He tried hard to keep the surprise off his face but then he remembered she was only acting. Raising their joined hands, he kissed the back of hers then gave her what he hoped was a soft smile. “Thank you, my dear.”

Molly stared at him for a heartbeat but recovered quickly and gave him a happy smile. “You’re welcome.”

Siger chuckled. “I’m betting you two will make it to the altar first.”

“I don’t care who gets married first,” Violet said, “just do things in the proper order – marriage first, then babies.”

“Yes, Mum,” Mycroft and Sherlock said obediently in unison. It was something their mother had told them many times since they were teenagers.

Siger smiled a bit. “Mycroft, why don’t you show Molly around? Sherlock already gave Irene a tour of the place when they got here.”

“An excellent idea,” he said then he rose and offered her his hand. “Shall we?”

She smiled at him gratefully then took his hand and stood up. “Lead the way.”

Still holding her hand, Mycroft led Molly out of the kitchen.

They were barely inside the sitting room, out of sight and earshot from the kitchen, when Molly suddenly pulled him over to the bare section of the nearest wall. She leaned against it then grabbed his shoulders and pulled him tightly to her before raising a hand to the back of his head and pulling him down for what could only properly be called a snog.

Too stunned to react at first, Mycroft’s body took over while his brain shut down. Arms wrapping around her, he held her close as he kissed her back cautiously at first. Molly’s happy sounds of approval gave him the confidence to kiss her back with all the passion she was showing him. Finally, his brain started working again. _I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but I certainly approve._

The sound of someone clearing their throat finally made them come up for air. Mycroft raised his head to glare at the intruder, feeling Molly bury her face in his shirt, presumably out of embarrassment.

“Don’t mind me,” Violet said, grinning. “I just came in here to find…” She trailed off as she looked around the room before settling on a coaster on the coffee table. “This,” she said, picking it up. “Your father needed one.” She turned and left the room, chuckling to herself.

A flash of insight came to him and he looked down at the top of Molly’s head. “You knew that would happen,” he murmured. He felt betrayed, which was nonsense since the fake relationship was his idea. Still, the idea of such a … stimulating kiss being only for show hurt the heart he wasn’t supposed to have.

She raised her head to look up at him, her flushed cheeks and soft eyes making him wonder exactly how much of the kiss was an act. “I knew they expected us to sneak a kiss or two,” she said softly. “We have to be believable, otherwise what’s the point?”

_What, indeed?_ he thought darkly. He started to pull away, but she held on tighter, grinning.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy it,” she murmured, grinning. “You’re a good kisser, Mycroft.”

He blinked in surprise – no one had ever told him that before. “Er, thank you. As are you. How … how far do you intend to take this?”

Molly giggled softly. “Kissing’s enough – sneaking off to the cupboard for a shag is a bit much.”

The thought of that had Mycroft regretting not asking for more room in his bespoke trousers. “Er, yes, quite.”

She lightly kissed his neck then murmured, her breath soft and warm on his skin, “I’ll put my hand on your thigh during dinner. Try not to jump.”

He shivered. “Molly…”

She gazed up at him, a sympathetic smile on her face. “How long has it been?”

It didn’t take a genius to know what she was referring to. “Twelve years, seven months, three days-”

She stared at him. “You remember the exact day?”

“And five hours.” Mycroft sighed quietly. “It wasn’t particularly good, but it wasn’t helped by my leaving quickly to save Sherlock from yet another doss house.”

She ran a hand soothingly over his upper arm. “You haven’t felt the inclination since?”

“I buried all such inclinations under the need to serve both my country and my family.”

“Things are a lot more settled now,” she murmured, “as far as Sherlock goes. Perhaps you could try dating again after the holidays.”

“Perhaps,” he said noncommittally.

After a tour of the house, they ended up in his old room. Both boys’ bedrooms had been converted to guest rooms, all of their things having been moved to the attic. Molly sat down on the edge of the double bed, watching him curiously. “What was your childhood like?”

He leaned against the writing desk, smirking. “Carefree, for the first seven years.”

“Then Sherlock came along?” she guessed.

“Precisely. I’ve been looking after him ever since.”

“I’d say that’s Irene’s job now.” She held out a hand to him and he was compelled to walk over and take it. “Who looks after you, Mycroft?” she asked softly.

“I look after myself.”

“That sounds terribly lonely.”

“You are in the same situation, are you lonely?”

“At times,” she admitted. “But I have my friends.”

“While I only have you,” he said as he sat down next to her, still holding her hand.

“Am I enough for you?” she asked softly.

The conversation was already getting more … sentimental than he was comfortable with. “You are the only person I can tolerate.” When she took her hand back, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Yes, well, goldfish aren’t known for being more than tolerable,” she muttered then she stood up. “We should probably head back downstairs.”

“Molly…” He sighed heavily. “You know I am … inexperienced with verbalizing my emotions.” He took one of her hands then when she turned to him, he took the other. “You are my only friend, it’s true, but you are still the closest, dearest friend I could hope for.” He sighed again. “I apologize for my behavior. I should have come alone, you do not deserve to be under this sort of scrutiny.”

She bent down to press a featherlight kiss to his forehead. “It’s alright, I’m glad you brought me. I certainly wouldn’t want you to show up to something like this alone. If I can spare anyone from parental nagging, I consider that a good thing.”

Mycroft chuckled. “Thank you, my dear.”

She leaned to whisper in his ear, “Not to mention I would’ve missed one fantastic kiss.”

He shivered and was about to reply when his father’s voice called them to dinner. Groaning quietly as he stood up, he then gave her a half-smile. “That kiss was … unexpected but not unpleasant.”

Molly laughed softly. “Thanks, I think.”

As he led her back downstairs, Mycroft couldn’t help wondering if they’d have a chance to get caught again.

Dinner was a livelier affair than any of the Christmas dinners Mycroft had endured growing up. His father kept Irene and Molly in stitches with tales of Mycroft and Sherlock’s most embarrassing childhood moments. Thankfully, most of the stories were about Sherlock, so Mycroft simply had to sit back and watch his younger brother squirm.

Despite Molly’s warning, he jumped slightly when he felt her hand on his thigh. Thankfully, everyone else was paying attention to Sherlock as he defended his childhood love of pirates. Molly’s small hand slid slowly, teasingly down his leg to his knee, then up again. Just before she reached his now-straining cock, he put a stilling hand over hers.

She looked up at him with soft, hooded eyes and he wanted nothing more than to forget his family, the world, and especially the fact that their relationship was only pretend. All he wanted was his mouth on hers, his body one with hers.

_Admit it,_ a voice in his head that sounded too much like Sherlock for his taste said, _your heart is already hers._

_I will admit nothing of the sort._ But then his eyes caught Molly’s and he knew the voice was right. _Now what?_

* * *

It wasn’t until they were enjoying dessert and coffee that anyone thought to check on the weather. Molly pulled out her phone and brought up the local weather. The report was enough to make her eyes go wide. “Nine inches?!”

Irene smirked but said nothing when Sherlock gave her a warning look.

Mycroft rose then went to the nearest window and looked out. “It would appear that we are snowed in.”

“I insist that everyone stay here for the night,” Violet said firmly. “We have plenty of room and I highly doubt the roads will be plowed before morning.”

“What about James and the car?” Molly asked.

“He’s having dinner with his parents, I’ll advise him to stay where he is.” As he pulled out his mobile, he glanced at Sherlock and Irene. “This means you’ll be spending the night too.”

“Not a problem,” Irene said, grinning. “I always have an overnight bag in the car. You never know when your plans might change.”

“Very sensible of you, Irene,” Violet said. “The ladies will share Mycroft’s room; the boys can have Sherlock’s.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “We’re all adults, Mum. I insist on sharing a room with Irene.”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so.”

* * *

“This’ll fit,” Irene said as she held out a short black silk and lace negligee. They were in Mycroft’s room, getting ready for bed.

“Are you sure about that?” Molly asked dubiously. “It’ll be too loose on me.”

Irene rolled her eyes. “We’re the same size, you know. The difference between us is that I like to flaunt my figure while you hide yours. Just put it on. See what wearing something the proper size feels like.”

Molly hesitated. “Violet offered one of her nighties.”

“That won’t get you anywhere with Mycroft.” Irene smirked at what must’ve been a surprised look on her face. “You two don’t fool me for a minute – I know you’re not together, but I also know you want him.” She studied her face for a moment. “Correction, you love him.”

Molly felt the blood rush to her face. “How did you… Fine, yes, I do. But this is the Iceman we’re talking about; how do I tell him?”

Irene grinned. “The first thing you do is put that on. The second thing you do is wait here.”

Not having any better ideas, Molly undressed then put on the negligee. One glance in the mirror told her Irene was right – it fit her curves beautifully. She could’ve gone with a little more length since it only went to mid-thigh but she relaxed a little when Irene smiled approvingly.

“I was right,” she said as she undressed then slipped on the negligee’s matching robe and tied it shut, grinning. “It’s time to play musical bedrooms. Have a good night, Molly. I know I will.” With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

A wave of nervousness hit Molly and she quickly turned off the lights before getting into bed. _I doubt he’ll come in, he’s too much of a gentleman. He’ll probably spend the night on the sofa. We can tell everyone we had a fight or something._

When he didn’t show five minutes after Irene left, she convinced herself he wasn’t coming. She turned onto her side, her back to the door, and closed her eyes, ordering herself to sleep.

* * *

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” Sherlock muttered as he pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms borrowed from their father.

“In regards to what, precisely?” Mycroft asked, even though he already knew. _Sherlock always was much too clever for his own good._

“You and Molly, of course. Do you really expect us to believe the two of you are dating? What woman could ever want a relationship with the Iceman?”

Mycroft bristled. “Molly, for one. She accepts me, which is more than I can say for you, little brother.”

Sherlock waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s all an act, presumably for our mother’s benefit. As soon as you get back to London, you’ll go back to being friends, albeit odd ones.”

“I’ll have you know, Sherlock, that as soon as Molly and I are back-”

His words were cut off by a light knock at the door. Curious, Mycroft went to the door and opened it. Irene grinned at him. “May I cut in?”

“Pardon?” he asked, dumbfounded.

She laughed softly as she stepped into the room. “You and I are switching rooms, Mycroft.” At his hesitation, she added, “Go on, Molly’s waiting.”

He hesitated for only a moment before mumbling his thanks then slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he lightly knocked on the door as he opened it fully. Molly’s form was just visible on the bed.

_Do I say something? Do I get in with her? Or do I turn around and sleep on the sitting room sofa_? He couldn’t remember ever feeling so conflicted. The sound of a low moan from his brother’s room made up his mind. Stepping into the room, he grabbed a spare blanket from the padded bench at the foot of bed.

“Who’s there?” Molly asked sleepily.

_No one._ “Just me. Irene decided she wanted to be with my brother tonight. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you, so I will just take one of the pillows and sleep on the sofa.”

She sat up and the sight of her in black silk was enough to make his mouth go dry. “This is your room,” she said softly, “so if anyone’s imposing, it’s me. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” She moved to get out of bed.

“It would be very … ungentlemanly of me to let a woman sleep on the sofa.”

“And it would be rude of me to kick you out of your own bedroom.” After a moment’s hesitation, she scooted to the far side of the bed then held back the bedclothes invitingly. “We’re both adults, Mycroft. We can share a bed for one night.”

The urge to take the blanket and pillow and leave was being overwhelmed by the urge to sleep with Molly in his arms. Putting the blanket back on the bench, he closed the door then took off his suit jacket and paused. “I left the pajamas my father lent me in Sherlock’s room. I could get them…” Another moan came from that direction. “On second thought…”

Molly’s face was barely visible in the ambient light, but he could tell she was amused. “It’s alright, you can sleep in your pants.” She paused. “You are wearing pants, right?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course.” He started on his cuff links.

“Do you ever go commando?” Her grin was evident in her voice.

“One does not go ‘commando’ in bespoke suits,” he said in his most imperial tone. Setting the cuff links on the nightstand, he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Molly giggled. “But you do the rest of the time? Good to know.”

He rolled his eyes again then took off his shirt, revealing his white undershirt. After a moment’s debate, he decided to leave the undershirt on then he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.

Her hand coming to rest on his shoulder had him jumping for the second time that night. “Easy,” she said softly. “Are you going to remove this?” She gave his undershirt a slight tug.

Mycroft sighed quietly. “It would be better if I kept it on. I’m fully aware that I am not a physically attractive man.”

“Says who?” she asked softly.

He turned to face her. “My brother, for one, although the mirror is more than enough.”

“They’re both wrong,” she murmured, bringing a hand up to his cheek. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” she smiled a bit, “when they don’t resemble chips of ice.” Her thumb lightly ran over his lips, which he obediently parted. “And very kissable lips, but I knew that already.”

“Molly…” He wasn’t sure what it was that he wanted, all he knew was that he didn’t want her to stop touching him.

“As for the rest of you,” she continued, her eyes roaming over him, “you’re not a bodybuilder, but you’re a lot more toned than you were when we first met. All that running has been good for you.”

“I… Thank you.”

She smiled softly. “You’re welcome.” She leaned forward to lightly kiss his lips. “Finish getting undressed, as much as you feel comfortable with. Whatever we do tonight, whether it’s make love or just sleep, it’ll be because we want to.”

He stared at her, unable to get past one thing she said. “‘Make love?’”

Even in the darkened room, he could see her eyes widen to almost a comical degree. “Oh shit… I… That … that wasn’t supposed to come out that way.”

* * *

Molly watched as disappointment settled on Mycroft’s shoulders like a blanket. “You didn’t mean it,” he said quietly.

_I can’t let him think that even for a moment. “_ What I didn’t mean was for the truth to come out so soon,” she said softly as she reached out to take his hand. “I know you’re not ready to hear it.”

“You … love me?”

She smiled softly. “Yes, Mycroft. I think it’s been building for a long time but it’s only today that I realized it.” She kissed him again, murmuring against his lips, “I don’t want this to be fake.”

He cradled her face in his hands as he gazed deep into her eyes. “Molly … I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s because you’re only thinking with this,” she said, lifting a hand to brush the back of her fingers along his temple. “Try thinking with this.” She laid her hand over his racing heart. “Say what you feel.”

“I feel…” He closed his eyes. “I feel … happy?”

“You’re not sure?”

He opened his eyes, giving her a little half-smile. “It’s not an emotion I have a great deal of experience with.”

“I hope to change that. What else?”

His eyes trailed from her face down her body, making her nipples harden. “Desire.” Then he raised his eyes to hers. “Affection.”

She smiled at him happily. “Finish getting undressed, Mycroft.” She laid back down then turned her face away, giving him a measure of privacy.

After a minute or two, she felt him climb in beside her then he pulled her close, his chest against her back and his arm around her waist. He nuzzled her hair.

“Are you certain about this, my dear?” he murmured in her ear.

She shivered pleasantly. “I’m okay with whatever you want to do, Mycroft. You can set the pace.” She raised a hand to gently stroke his arm. “I’m satisfied just being with you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment then he murmured hesitantly, “I … I wish to be intimate with you.” When she turned to face him, he continued. “You must keep in mind that it’s been a very long time since I’ve been with anyone.”

“It’s only been two years for me,” she murmured. “But since we’ve never been together before, we’re equal in that we’re learning each other.”

She took a moment to look him over. He’d removed his undershirt but bedclothes covered his lower half, so she could only guess if he’d removed his pants or not. There was a generous amount of hair on his chest and she gave in to the sudden impulse to run her hand over his chest, the hair tickling her skin.

Mycroft closed his eyes, saying quietly, “I know such a large amount of chest hair is unfashionable these days-”

She stopped those thoughts with a kiss, which he returned after a momentary shock. “Look at me, Mycroft,” she murmured. He opened his eyes and she could see he was expecting a let-down. _Not this time._ “I think you’re perfect.” She ran her hand over his chest again. “This is going to feel so good against my nipples.” Even in the dark, she could see he was blushing and it made her smile. “Your body arouses me, Mycroft. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks?”

He gazed at her. “Thank you, my dear.” Taking her other hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “However,” he said, his tone much more playful than she was expecting, “you’ve made the decision that I arouse you without seeing all of me.”

It was Molly’s turn to blush. “I, um, don’t need to see all of you to know I want you. Your intellect, your heart, even though it’s well-hidden, your presence. I’m already wet for you. Whatever size, um, tool you have is a bonus.”

He chuckled then pulled her close for a kiss, his hand pulling hers under the bedclothes. Her fingers encountered his hard, hot cock and gently wrapped around it. She marveled at his thickness and, as she slid her hand to the tip, his length.

“Wentworth Mycroft Byron Holmes,” she murmured in his ear, “you’ve been walking around with a cannon in those bespoke trousers of yours this whole time and you never told me?”

He chuckled. “Guilty. If I spent the rest of the night pleasuring you, am I forgiven?”

“Mmm, yes. Let me even things out.” She slipped the negligee over her head then tossed it onto the floor.

He gazed at her hungrily. “You are exquisite, my dear,” he murmured.

He ducked his head to take one nipple into his mouth as one hand moved between her legs. She spread them eagerly, her hands moving into his hair as she moaned his name softly. He used his tongue, lips, and teeth to bring her to the brink, first with one breast then the other, while his fingers expertly played with her clit. In no time, she was coming apart at the seams from his ministrations, shouting his name so loudly that she was grateful his parents’ room was at the other side of the house.

_It’s bad enough Sherlock and Irene heard all of that,_ she thought wearily as she tried to catch her breath. When she had recovered, she turned to Mycroft, then gently pulled him on top of her. He braced his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her.

“Molly, I’m clean,” he murmured, gazing down at her, “as I know you are, and that you’re on the pill.”

She smiled a bit. “Someone’s been snooping, but I don’t mind.” She wrapped her legs around his waist then guided his cock to her dripping entrance. “Make me yours, Mycroft.”

He held her close, murmuring in her ear, “I love you,” as he entered her. Just as she predicted, his chest hair felt so good tickling her nipples. His size stretched her but any pain she might have felt was overwhelmed by pleasure and happiness.

_He loves me! He loves me and oh my God, is he big_ … She clung to him as he sank deep into her, her face buried in the hollow of his throat. When he was fully sheathed inside her, he let out a low, satisfied moan.

“My God, Molly…” he whispered, his face buried in her hair. “This feels … indescribable.”

“For me too,” she murmured.

He started to move, slowly at first, but Molly’s kisses and encouraging sounds soon gave him the confidence to take her harder, faster. She matched the rhythm of her movements to his, her second orgasm building. It overwhelmed her when his fingers reached between them to find her clit again and she bit his shoulder to keep the whole house from hearing her.

Her orgasm set off his and he cried out her name as his seed filled her. Mindful of her small frame, he pulled out of her then collapsed beside her, breathing heavily. Molly watched him as she too caught her breath.

“You really are the most beautiful man,” she murmured.

He laughed weakly. “Are you certain you’re not confusing me with my brother?”

“Never,” she murmured. “I know which Holmes has my heart.”

The loving smile he gave her felt like summer in December.

* * *

She woke the next morning to an empty bed. That didn’t surprise her, really, but when she reached over to his side and found it cold, she sat up, confused. _Where could he have gone? The roads are still closed, so it’s not like he could’ve just left. And he wouldn’t, not after last night._

_Right?_

She was contemplating putting the borrowed negligee back on and going to look for him when there was a light knock on the door just before Mycroft came in with a breakfast tray. He smiled when he saw her.

“I thought you’d be awake now.” He wore his dress shirt and trousers from the day before but he looked much more relaxed. Setting the tray on her lap, he sat down next to her. There was a full English fry-up and Molly realized she was starving.

“Are you going to join me?” she asked as she started eating.

“I would, but I’ve found I don’t have much of an appetite today.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling a bit. “You?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Yes, it’s hard to be hungry when your stomach is full of butterflies.”

“Why would-” Her question was cut off by the sight of him pulling a black velvet ring box out of his trouser pocket and setting it on the tray.

“I know this is sudden,” he started, his eyes not meeting hers. “Terribly sudden. And yet, I find I cannot go another day without knowing. Molly, you bring out the humanity in me. Not very romantic, but it’s true. You reminded me that I have a heart,” he finally met her eyes, smiling a bit, “which you then proceeded to steal. I’m afraid I have no choice but to offer you my life as well.” He took her left hand in both of his. “Margaret Anne Hooper, will you marry me?”

She looked deep into his eyes and knew what her answer was. Beaming, she murmured, “With all of my heart, yes.”

* * *

After breakfast and a quick lovemaking session during their shared shower, they were ready to face the rest of the family. They had agreed to not mention the engagement until someone else said something.

As soon as they walked into the sitting room, Siger grinned at them. “Are you two forgetting something?”

Molly glanced at her fiancé, who looked just as confused, then she turned back to her future father-in-law. “What did we forget?”

“Mistletoe, of course.” Siger pointed to a spot above them.

Both of them looked up to see the sprig hanging from the top of the doorway. Mycroft smirked at her, his eyes dancing. “Do you mind?”

She grinned up at him. “Not a bit.”

When he lowered his head to kiss her, she raised her left hand to his cheek, showing everyone the heirloom diamond ring he’d given her. Their congratulations were drowned out by all the love she was feeling for the man she’d given her heart to.


End file.
